"I am no maester to quote history at you, Your Grace. Swords have been my life, not books. But every child knows that the Targaryens have always danced too close to madness. Your father was not the first. King Jaehaerys once told me that madness and...
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Elric Stark, 5 and 10 years old. Third born. Kept his hair tied back. Lighter hair. Probably from his mothers. Although seemed slightly older than his second brother, but was indeed the youngest of the bunch.
Cregan Stark walked over, shaking their hands while they gave their condolences to him. Sara came around serving their drinks as they sat around a prepared table for them. All they now needed was his uncle to come be seated at the table.
"If I may—-" Brandon Stark began. "—What happened?"
Cregan took a sip of his own cup after being served. Sara Snow made her way out. "He passed in his sleep. The age got to him."
Benjen nods. "At least it was not brutal."
"Yes. I suppose you're right."
"Would this mean that you're a Lord now?" Brandon asked. Benjen gently hits his brother's arm. "Just a question."
"Winterfell has always been my home. I've been arranging the funeral. Been busy since then. I am a Lord."
Elric nods to him. "A young one. The youngest."
Cregan wanted to laugh, but found no reason to.
Food was brought and was served at the table.
Bennard Stark had just entered the Great Hall to eat as well. No words were exchanged during their meals.
Soon after they were finished, their plates were picked up and cups were refilled. Bennard spoke. "I have made the choice to stay in Winterfell with my sons until you are 6 and 10. When you are 6 and 10, you shall become Lord of Winterfell."
"I am Lord of Winterfell."
"No. You are a boy. A boy who would be off studying and training like everyone else. When you are 6 and 10 in three years, you will be Lord like a proper Adult and I will then return home with my boys."
"Father—-" The Eldest tried to interrupt. He stopped when his fathers hand was raised.
Cregan listen. "3 years. That is all. After that... we go home." Cregan did not want this sudden change. "The Elders think it's wise. Even the guards that I have spoken to."
"3 years." Bennard Stark nods. "I order my men to send out word that my father has passed. And all you have to speak about is wanting to stay here in Winterfell. Does my fathers death not matter to you, uncle?"
A shift made inside the Hall. A dangerous one in fact. "I wept when I read the letter. I have wept from the journey there to here. I wept when I stepped into your fathers chambers." Cregan eyes him. Bennard was growing angry with Cregan's insult. "I love your father. He was my brother. And now he is gone. No one to look out for you. No one to care for you. But here I am. Looking and caring for you. Here and Now." Silence. "We will speak about this later. When is the funeral?"
